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POEMS OF SENTIMENT 



CONTAINING 



AN ERRING WOMAN'S LOVE, LOVE'S SUPREMACY, 
AND WORTH WHILE, Etc., Etc. 



BY 

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 

author of 

"poems of passion," "poems of pleasure," maurine," etc. 



CHICAGO 

W. B. CONKEY COMPANY 



f 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Rectived 

SEP 21 »906 

o Ccwrnrht Entry 
CLAsi €L XXc, N.. 
COPY B. ^ 



T^ 



^. 



i^Ols 



Copyright, 1892 

BY 

ELLA WHEEIvER WILCOX 



Copyright, 1906 

BY 

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 



CONTENTS. 



r 



PAGE 

Action 141 

A Married Coquette 23 

A Minor Chord 121 

An Erring Woman's Love 87 

An Ode to Time lH 

A Solar Eclipse. ; 148 

A Song of Republics 107 

A Suggestion 151 

As You Go Through Life 39 

A Warning 127 

A Woman's Love 63 

Be Not Content 139 

Blind 35 

Coleur de Rose 13 

Concentration 161 

Death's Protest -. 122 

Diamonds 118 

Double Carnations 29 

Dual 133 

Duty's Path 75 

Easter Morn 33 

"Has Been" , 73 

7 



8 Contents. 

PAGE 

PIeaven and Hell 56 

"He that Looketh" 85 

Insight 61 

It All Will Come Out Right 45 

Last Love 16 

Life's Opera 154 

Life's Track. 17 

Love's Supremacy 57 

Luck , 163 

March 80 

Memorial Day— 1892 Ill 

Memory's River 69 

Mistakes 131 

Never Mind 157 

New Year 159 

Realization 49 

Reform 120 

^ Regret and Remorse 22 

Rubies 118 

Sapphires 119 

Satiety 147 

September 123 

Shrines 145 

Success 50 

Sun Shadows 84 

Swimming Song 31 

The All-Creative Spark 137 

The Depths 153 



Contents, 9 



PAGE 

The End of the Summer 81 

The Eternal Will : 59 

The Lady and the Dame 53 

The Little White Hearse 47 

The P^an of Peace ^Qi 

The Rape of the Mist 135 

The Salt Sea- Wind 155 

The Summer Girl 77 

The Watcher 149 

The Yellow-covered Almanac. 41 

Thoughts — 162 

To Another. Woman's Baby 117 

Turquoise 119 

Two Roses 143 

Two Women 37 

Wail of an Old-timer 124 

Was, Is, and Yet-to-be 128 

When Baby Souls Sail Out 114 

Worth While 11 



WORTH WHILE. 

It is easy enough to be pleasant, 

When life flows by like a song, 
But the man worth while is one who will smile, 

When everything goes dead wrong. 
For the test of the heart is trouble, 

And it always comes with the years, 
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth, n^ 

Is the smile that shines through tears. 

It is easy enough to be prudent, 

When nothing tempts you to stray, 
When without or within no voice of sin 

Is luring your soul away ; 
But it's only a negative virtue 

Until it is tried by fire, 
And the life that is worth the honor on earth, 

Is the one that resists desire. 



12 Worth While. 

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, 

Who had no strength for the strife, 
The world's highway is cucnbered to-day, 

They make up the sum of life. 
But the virtue that conquers passion. 

And the sorrow that hides in a smile, 
It is these that are worth the homage on earth 

For we find. them but once in a while. 



COLEUR DE ROSE. 

I WANT more lives in which to love 

This world so full of beauty, 
I want more days to use the ways 

I know of doing duty; 
I ask no greater joy than this 

(So much I am life's lover,) 
When I reach age to turn the page 

And read the story over, 

(Oh love stay near ! ) 

Oh rapturous promise of the Spring! 

Oh June fulfilling after! 
If Autumns sigh, when Summers die, 

'Tis drowned in Winter's laughter. 

Oh maiden dawns, oh wifely noons, 

Oh siren sweet, sweet nights, 
13 



14 Coleur de Rose. 

Fd want no heaven could earth be given 
Again with its delights, 
(If love stayed near ! ) 

There are such glories for the eye, 

Such pleasures for the ear, 
The senses reel with all they feel 

And see and taste and hear; 
There are such ways of doing good, 

Such ways of being kind, 
And bread that's cast on waters fast 

Comes home again, I find. 

(Oh love stay near.) 

There are such royal souls to know, 

There is so much to learn. 
While secrets rest in Nature's breast 

And unnamed stars still burn, 
God toiled six days to m.ake this earth, 

I think the good folks say — 
Six lives we need to give full meed 



Coleur de Rose. 1 5 

Of praise—one for each day, 
(If love stay near.) 

But oh ! if love fled far away, 

Or veiled his face from me, 
One life too much, why then were such 

A life as this would be. 
With sullen May and blighted June 

Blurred dawn and haggard night, 
This dear old world in space were hurled 

If love lent not his light. 

(Oh love stay near.) 



LAST LOVE. 

The first flower of the spring is not so fair 
Or bright, as one the ripe midsummer brings. 
The first faint note the forest warbler sings 
Is not as rich with feeling, or so rare 
As when, full master of his art, the air 
Drowns in the liquid sea of song he flings 
Like silver spray from beak, and breast, and 

wings. 
The artist's earliest effort wrought with care, 
The bard's first ballad, written in his tears. 
Set by his later toil seems poor and tame. 
And into nothing dwindles at the test. 
So with the passions of maturer years 
Let those who will demand the first fond 

flame. 

Give me the heart's last love, for that is best. 

i6 



LIFE'S TRACK. 

This game of life is a dangerous play> 
Each human soul must watch alway, 

From the first to the very last. 
I care not however strong and pure — 
Let no man say he is perfectly sure 

The dangerous reefs are past. 

For many a rock may lurk near by, 

That never is seen when the tide is high — 

Let no man dare to boast. 
When the hand is full of trumps — beware, 
For that is the time when thought and care 

And nerve are needed most. 

As the oldest jockey knows to his cost, 

Full many a well-run race is lost 
17 



1 8 Life's Track. 

A brief half length from the wire. 

And many a soul that has fought with sin, 

And gained each battle, at last gives in 

To sudden, fierce desire. 

And vain seems the effort of spur and whip, 
Or the hoarse, hot cry of the pallid lip, 

When once we Have fallen back. 
It is better to keep on stirrup and rein, 
The steady poise and the careful strain 

In speeding along Life's track. 

A watchful eye and a strong, true hand 
Will carry us under the Judge's stand, 

If prayer, too, does its part. 
And little by little the struggling soul 
Will grow and strengthen and gain control 

Over the passionate heart. 



AN ODE TO TIME. 

Ho! sportsman lime, whose chargers fleet 
The moments, madly driven. 
Beat in the dust beneath their feet 
Sweet hopes that years have given ; 
Turn, turn aside those reckless steeds, 
Oh ! do not urge them my way ; 
There's nothing that Time wants or needs 
In this contented by-way. 

You have down-trodden, in your race, 

So much that proves your power, 

Why not avoid my humble place. 

Why rob me of my dov/er ? 

With your vast cellars, cavern deep, 

Packed tier on tier with treasures, 

You would not miss them should I keep 

My little store of pleasures. 

19 



1/ 



20 An Qde to Time. 

As one who frightened, flying flings 

Her riches down at random, 

Your course is paved with precious things 

Life casts before your tandem : 

The warrior's fame, the conqueror's crown, 

Great creeds for ages cherished. 

Beneath your chariot-wheels were thrown 

And crushed to earth they perished. 

Although to just and generous deeds 
Your heart is not a stranger, 
I have the feeling that one needs 
To guard his wealth from danger. 
And though a most heroic light 
Oft on your pathway lingers, 
I'd hide my treasures, if I might, 
From contact with your fingers. 

You are the loyal friend of Truth, 
Go seek her, make her stronger, 
And leave the remnant of my youth 



An Ode to Time. ^^ 

To me a little longer. 

There's work enough for you before 

Eternity shall wed you : 

Why stoop to steal my simple store, 

Why make m^ shun and dread you? 

You do not need my joys, I say, 
Home, love, and friends united — 
I beg you turn and go the way 
Where wrong waits to be righted ; 
Or pause, and let us chat a while : 
rU listen (not too near you) 
For Oh ! no matter how you smile, 
I fear you, Time, I fear you ! 



REGRET AND REMORSE. 

Regret with streaming eyes doth seem alway 
A maiden widowed on her wedding day. 

While dark Remorse with eyes too sad for 

tears 
A crushed, desponding Magdalene appears. 

One with a hungering heart unsatisfied 
Mourns for imagined joys that were denied. 

The other pierced by recollected sin, 
Broods o'er the scars of pleasures that have 
been. 



22 



A MARRIED COQUETTE. 

Sit still, I say, and dispense with heroics! 

I hurt your wrists ? Well, you have hurt me. 
It is time you found out that all men are not 
stoics, 

Nor toys to be used as your mood may be. 
/ will not let go of your hands, nor leave you 

Until I have spoken. No man, you say 
Dared ever so treat you before? I believe you 

For you have dealt only with boys till to- 
day. 

You women lay stress on your fine perception, 

Your intuitions are prated about; 

You claim an occult sort of conception 

Of matters which men must reason out. 
23 



24 A Msirried Coquette. 

So then, of course, when you asked me kindly 
To " call agiain soon " you read my heart ; 

I cannot believe you were acting blindly, 
You saw my passion for you from the start. 

You are one of these women who charm with^ 
out trying ; 

The clay you are made of is magnet ore, 
And I am the steel; yet, there's no denying 

You led me to loving you more and more. 
You are fanning a flame that may burn too 
brightly, 

Oft easily kindled, but hard to put out ; 
I am not a man to be played with lightly, 

To come at a gesture and go at a pout. 

A brute you call m^e, a creature inhuman; 

You say I insult you, and bid me go. 
Ind you ? Oh you are a saintly woman. 

With thoughts as pure as the drifted snow, 
^ah ! you are but one of a thousand beauties 



A Married Coquette. .25 

Who think^they are living exemplary lives, 
riiey break no commandments, and do all their 
duties 
As Christian women and spotless wives. 

But with drooping of lids, and lifting of faces, 

And baring of shoulders, and well-timed sighs, 
And the devil knows what other subtle graces, 

You are mental wantons, who sin with the 
eyes. 
You lure Love to wake, yet bid passion keep 
under, '^ 

You tempt us to fall but bid reason control; 
And then you are full of an outraged wonder. 

When we get to wanting you, body and soul. 

Why, look at yourself! You were no stranger 
To the fact that my heart was already on fire. 

When you asked me to call you knew my danger, 
Yet here you are, dressed in the gown I ad- 
mire; 



26 A Married Coquette. 

And half of the evil on earth is invented 
By vain, pretty women with nothing to do 

But to keep themselves manicured, powdered, 
and scented 
And seek for sensations, amusing and new. 

But when / play at Love at a woman's com- 
manding, 
I always am certain to win one game; 
So there— there — there! I will leave my brand- 
ing 
On the lips that are free now to cry " Shame, 
shame 1 " 
You hate me? Quite likely! It does not sur- 
prise me. 
Brute force ? I confess it ; but still you were 
kissed ; 
And one thing is certain~you cannot despise 
me 
For having been played with, controlled, and 
dismiaied. 



A Married Coquette. 27 

And the next time you see that a man is at- 
tracted 
By the beauty and graces that are not for 
him, 
Don*t lead him on to be half distracted- 
Keep out of deep waters although you can 
swim. 
For when he is caught in the whirlpool of pas- 
sion, 
Where many bold swimmers are seen to 
drown, 
A man will reach out and, in desperate fashion. 
Will drag whoever is nearest him down. 

Though the strings of his heart may be 
wrenched and riven 

By a maiden coquette who has led him along, 
She can be pardoned, excused, and forgiven, 

For Innocence blindfolded walks into wrong. 
But she who has willingly taken the fetter 

That Hymen forges at Cupid's command— 



28 A Married Coquette. 

Well, she is a woman who ought to know bet 

ter; 
She needs no mercy at any man's hand. 

In the game of hearts, though a woman be win- 
ner. 
The odds are ever against her, you know; 
The world is ready to call her a sinner. 

And man is ready to make her so. 
Shame is likely, and sorrow is certain. 
And the man has the best of k, end as it 
may. 
So now, my lady, we'll drop the curtain, 
And put out the lights. We are through with 
our play. 



DOUBLE CARNATIONS. 

A WILD pink nestled in a garden bed, 
A rich Carnation flourished high above her, 
One day he chanced to see her pretty head 
And leaned and looked again, and grew to love 
her. 

The moss (her humble mother), saw with fear 
The ardent glances of the princely stranger ; 
With many an anxious thought and dewy tear 
She sought to hide her darling from this danger. 

The gardener-guardian of this noble bud 
A cruel trellis interposed between them. 
No common Pink should mate with royal blood, 
He said, and sought in every way to wean them. 

The poor Pink pimed and faded day by day: 

Her restless lover from his prison bower 

29 



30 Double Carnations. 

Called in a priestly bee who passed that way, 
And sent a message to the sorrowing flower. 

The fainting Pink wept as the bee drew near, 
Droning his prayers, and begged him to confess 

her. 
Her weary mother, over-taxed by fear. 
Slept, while the priest leaned low to shrive and 

bless her. 

But Lo! ere long the tale went creeping out, 
The rich Carnation and the Pink were married ! 
The cunning bee had brought the thing about 
While Mamma Moss in Slumber's arms had tar- 
ried. 

And proud descendants of that loving pair, 
The offspring of that true and ardent passion, 
Are famous for their beauty everywhere, 
And leaders in the floral world of fashion. 



SWIMMING SONG. 

I AM coming, coming to thee, 
My strong-armed lover, the Sea ! 
On thy great, broad breast, I will lie and rest, 
And thou shalt talk to me. 

I have come to thee, all unsought, 
I have stolen an hour from thought ! 
And peace and power, thou canst give in that 
hour, 
Which thy rival Earth gives not. 

Alone here, under the sky, 
And the whole world drifting by! 
Thy breast of brine thrills close to mine, 
While the cloudless sun sails high. 

I fly, but thou givcst chase — 

Thy kisses arc on my face! 

31 



32 Swimming Song 

Be bold and free as thou wilt, oh Sea, 
There is life in thy close embrace. 

Throat and cheek and tress 
Are damp where thy salt lips press ! 
There is strength and bliss in thy daring kiss, 
And joy in thy bold caress. 

x\nd what is the Earth to me? 
I have left it all, oh Sea ! 
With its dust and soil, and strife and toil, 
For one glad hour with thee. 



EASTER MORN. 

A Truth that has long lain buried 

At Superstition's door, 
I see, in the dawn uprising. 

In all its strength once more. 

Hidden away in the darkness, 
By Ignorance crucified, 

Crushed under stones of dogmas- 
Yet lo! it has not diedo 

It stands in the light transfigured, 

It speaks from the heights above, 

I ^^ Each soul is its own redeemer 

There is no law but Love^' 
33 



34 Easter Morn. 

And the spirits of men are gladdened 
As they welcome this Truth re-born. 

With its feet on the grave of Error 
And its eyes to the Easter Morn. 



BLIND. 

Whatever a man may think or feel 

He can tell to the world and it hears aright : 
But it bids the woman conceal, conceal, 

And woe to the thoughts that at last ignite. 
She may serve up gossip or dwell on fashion, 

Or play the critic with speech unkind. 
But alas for the woman who speaks with passion, 

For the world is blind — for the world is blind. 

It is woman who sits with her starved desire, 
And drinks to sorrow in cups of tears: 

She reads by the light of her soul on fire 
The secrets of love through lonely years: 

But out of all she has felt or heard 

Or read by the glow of her soul's white flame, 

35 



%6 Blind. 

If she dare but utter aloud one word — 

How the world cries shame — how the worlil 
cries shame. 

It cannot distinguish between the glow 

Of a gleaming star, in the sky of gold, 
Or a spent cigar in the dust below — 

'Twixt unclad Eve, or a wanton bold; 
And ever if woman speaks what she feels 

(And feels consistent with God's great plan), 
It has cast her under its juggernaut wheels, 

Since the world began — since the world began. 



TWO WOMEN. 

I KNOW two women, and one is chaste 

And cold as the snows on a winter waste. 

Stainless ever in act and thought 

(As a man, born dumb, in speech errs not.) 

But she has malice toward her kind, 

A cruel tongue and a jealous mind. 

Void of pity and full of greed, 

She judges the world by her narrow creed : 

A brewer of quarrels, a breeder of hate, 

Yet she holds the key to *^ Society's " Gate. 

The other woman, with heart of flame, 
Went mad for a love that marred her name : 
And out of the grave of her murdered faith 
She rose like a soul that has passed through 

death. 

s 37 



3? Two Women. 

Her aims are noble, her pity so broad, 
It covers the world like the mercy of God. 
A soother of discord, a healer of woes, 
Peace follows her footsteps wherever she goes. 
The worthier life of the two, no doubt, 
And yet " Society " locks her out. 



AS YOU GO THROUGH LIFE 

Don't look for the flaws as you go through 
life; 

And even when you find them, 
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind, 

And look for the virtue behind them ; 
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light 

Somewhere in its shadows hiding: 
It's better by far to hunt for a star, 

Than the spots on the sun abiding. 

The current of life runs ever away 
To the bosom of God's great ocean. 

Don't set your force 'gainst the river's course, 
And think to alter its motion. 

Don't waste a curse on the universe, 

Remember, it lived before you : 
39 



40 As Yoii Go Through Life. 

Don't butt at tlie storm with your puny form, 
But bend and let it go o'er you. 

The world will never adjust itself 

To suit your whims to the letter, 
Some things must go wrong, your whole life long, 

And the sooner you know it the better. 
It is folly to fight with the Infinite, 

And go under at last in the wrestle. 
The wiser man shapes into God's plan. 

As water shapes into a vessel. 



THE YELLOW-COVERED ALMANAC. 

I LEFT the farm when mother died and changed 
my place of dwelling 
To daughter Susie's stylish house right on the 
city street : 
And there was them before I came that sort of 
scared me, telling 
How I would find the town folks ways so 
difficult to meet ; 
They said I'd have no comfort in the rustling, 
fixed up throng, 
And I'd have to wear stiff collars, every week- 
day, right along. 

I find I take to city ways just like a duck to 

water ; 

I like the racket and the noise and never tire 

of shows : 

41 



■I 
42 The Yellow-Covered Almanac. 

And there's no end of comfort in the mansion 
of my daughter, 
And everything is right at hand and money 
freely flows; 
And hired help is alt about, just listenin' to my 
call- 
But I miss the yellow almanac off my old 
kitchen wall. 

The houise is full of calendars from attic to the 
cellar, 
They're painted ia all colors and are fancy 
like to see. 
But in this one particular I'm not a modern 
feller. 
And the yellow-covered almanac is good 
enough for me. 
I'm used to it, IVe seen it round from boyhood 
to old age. 
And I rather like the jokin* at the bottom of 
the page. 



The Yellow-Covered Almanac. 43 

I like the way its " S " stood out to show the 
week's beginnin': 
(In these new-fangled calendars the days 
seem sort of mixed), 
And the man upon the cover, tho' he wa'n't 
exactly winnin', 
With lungs and liver all exposed still showed 
how we are fixed ; 
And the letters and credentials that was writ 
to Mr, Ayer 
IVc often on a rainy day found readin' pretty 
fair. 

I tried to buy one recently, there wa*n't none 
in the city I 
They toted out great calendars, in every shape 
and style. 
1 looked at 'em in cold disdain, and answered 
*em in pity — 
Fd rather have my almanac than all that 
^stl^ pile? 



44 The Yellow-Covered Almanac, 

And tho' I take to city life, Fm lonesome after 
all 
For that old yellow almanac upon my kitchen 
wall. 



IT ALL WILL COME OUT RIGHT. 

Whatever is a cruel wrong, 

Whatever is unjust, 
The honest years that speed along 

Will trample in the dust. 
In restless youth I railed at fate 

With all my puny might, 
But now I know if I but wait 

It all will come out right. 

Though Vice may don the judge's gown 

And play the censor's part, 
And Fact be cowed by Falsehood's frown 

And Nature ruled by art ; 
Though Labor toils through blinding tears 

And idle Wealth is might, 

I know the honest, earnest years 

Will bring it all out right. 
45 



46 // All Will Come Out Right. 

Though poor and loveless creeds may pass 

For pure religion's gold ; 
Though ignorance may rule the mass 

While truth meets glances cold, 
I know a law complete, sublime, 

Controls us with its might, 
And in God's own appointed time 

It all will come out right. 



THE LITTLE WHITE HEARSE. 

Somebody's baby was buried to-day — 
The empty white hearse from the grave rum- 
bled back, 
And the morning somehow seemed less smiling 

and gay 
As I paused on the walk while it crossed on 
its way, 
And a shadow seemed drawn o'er the sunn's 
golden track. 

Somebody's baby was laid out to rest, 

White as a snowdrop, and fciir to behold. 
And the soft little hands were crossed over the 

breast, 
And those hands and the lips and the eyelids 

were pressed 

With kisses as hot as the eyelids were cold 
47 



48 The Little White Hearse. 

Somebody saw it go out of her sight, 

Under the coffin lid — out through the door; 
Somebody finds only darkness and blight 
All through the glory of summer-sun light; 
Somebody's baby will waken no more. 

Somebody's sorrow is making me weep : 

I know not her name, but I echo her cry. 
For the dearly bought baby she longed so to 

keep, 
The baby that rode to its long-lasting sleep 
In the little white hearse that went rumbling 
by. 

I know not her name, but her sorrow I know ; 
While I paused on the crossing I lived it 
once more. 
And back to my heart surged that river of woe 
That but in the breast of a mother can flow ; 
For the little white hearse has been, too, at 
my door. 



REALIZATION. 

(At the Old Homestead.) 

I TREAD the paths of earlier times 
Where all my steps were set to rhymes. 

I gaze on scenes I used to see 
When dreaming of a vague To be. 

I walk in ways made bright of old 

By hopes youth-limned in hues of gold. 

But lo! those hopes of future bliss 
Seem dull beside the joy that is. 

My noonday skies are far more bright 
Than those dreamed of in morning's light, 

And life gives me more joys to hold 

Than all it promised me of old. 
6 49 



SUCCESS. 

As we gaze up life's slope, as we gaze 
In the morn, ere the dewdrops are dry, 

What splendor hangs over the ways, 
What glory gleams there in the sky; 
What pleasures seem waiting us, high ^ 

On the peak of that beauteous slope. 

What rainbow-hued colors of hope 

As we gaze. 

As we climb up the hill, as we climb, 
Our hearts, our illusions, are rent: 

For Fate, who is spouse of old Time, 
Is jealous of youth and content. 
With brows that are brooding and bent, 

She shadows our sunlight of gold. 

And the way grows lonely and cold 

As we climb. 
50 



Success. 5^ 

As we toil on, through trouble and pain, 
There are hands that will shelter and feed : 

But once let us dare to attain — 
They will bruise our bare hearts till they bleed. 
'Tis the worst of all crimes to succeed. 

Know this as ye feast on a crust, 

Know this in the darkness and dust, 

Ye who climb. 

As we stand on the heights of success, 
Lo ! success seems as sad as defeat ! 

Through the lives we may succor and bless 
Alone may its bitter turn sweet ; 
And the world lying there at our feet, 

With its cavilling praise and its sneer. 

We must pity, condone, but not hear. 

Where we stand. 

As we live on those heights, we must live 

With the courage and pride of a god ; 
For the world, it has nothing to give 



$2 Success. 

But the scourge of the lash and the rod. 

Our thoughts must be noble and broad, 
Our purpose must challenge men's gaze, 
While we seek not their blame or their praise 

As we live. 



THE LADY AND THE DAMR 

So, thou hast the art, good dame, thou swear* 
est. 

To keep Time's perishing touch at bay 
From the roseate splendor of the cheek so ten- 
der. 

And the silver threads from the gold away. 
And the tell-tale years that have hurried by us 

Shall tip-toe back, and, with kind good-will. 
They shall take the traces from off our faces. 

If we will trust to thy magic skill. 

Thou speakest fairly ; but if I listen 
And buy thy secret, and prove its truth, 

Hast thou the potion and magic lotion 
To give me also the heart of youth ? 

With the cheek of rose and the ey^ of b(^auty, 

4 53 



54 The Lady and the Dame. 

And the lustrous locks of life's lost prime, 
Wilt thou bring thronging, each hope and long- 
ing 
That made the glory of that dead Time ? 

When the sap in the trees sets young buds 
bursting. 
And the song of the birds fills the air like 
spray. 
Will rivers of feeling come once more stealing 

From the beautiful hills of the far-away ? 
Wilt thou demolish the tower of reason 
And fling forever down into the dust, 
The caution time brought me, the lessons life 
taught me. 
And put in their places my old sweet trust ? 

If Time's foot-print from my brow is driven, 
Canst thou, too, take with thy subtle powers. 

The burden of thinking, and let me go drinking, 
The careless pleasures of youth's bright hours? 



The Lady and the Dame, 55 

If silver threads from my tresses vanish, 

If a glow once more in my pale cheek 
gleams, 

Wilt thou slay duty and give back the beauty 
Of days untroubled by aught but dreams ? 

When the soft fair arms of the siren Summer 

Encircle the earth in their languorous fold, 
Will vast, deep oceans of sweet emotions 

Surge through my veins as they surged of 
old? 
Canst thou bring back from a day long-van-^ 
ished 

The leaping pulse and the boundless aim ? 
I will pay thee double, for all thy trouble, 

If thou wilt restore all these, good dame. 



HEAVEN AND HELL. 

While forced to dwell apart from thy dear face 

Love, robed like sorrow, led me by the hand 
And taught my doubting heart to understand 

That which has puzzled all the human race. 
Full many a sage has questioned where in space 

Those counter worlds were ? where the mystic 
strand 
That separates them : I have found each land, 

And Hell is vast, and Heaven a narrow space. 

In the small compass of thy clasping arms 
In reach and sight of thy dear lips and eyes 

There, there for me the joy of heaven lies. 
Outside, lo ! chaos, terrors' wild alarms 

And all the desolation fierce and fell 

Of void and aching nothingness, makes Hell. 
— 56 



LOVFS SUPREMACY, 

As yon great Sun in his supreme condition 
Absorbs small worlds and makes them all his 
own, 
So does my love absorb each vain ambition 
Each outside purpose which my life has 
known. 
Stars cannot shine so near that vast orb's splen- 
dor, 
They are content to feed his flames of fire; 
And so my heart is satisfied to render 

Its strength, its all, to meet thy strong desire. 

As in a forest when dead leaves are falling. 
From all save some perennial green tree. 

So one by one I find all pleasures palling 

That are not linked with or enjoyed by thee. 

And all the homage that the world may proffer, 

57 



5 8 Loves Supremacy. 

I take as perfumed oils or incense sweet, 
And think of it as one thing more to offer 
And sacrifice to Love, at thy dear feet. 

I love myself because thou art my lover, 

My name seems dear since uttered by thy 
voice ; 
Yet argus-eyed I watch and would discover 

Each blemish in the object of thy choice. 
I coldly sit in judgment on each error, 

To my soul's gaze I hold each fault of me, 
Until my pride is lost in abject terror, 

Lest I become inadequate to thee. 

Like some^ swift-rushing and sea-seeking river, 

Which gathers force the farther on it goes, 
So does the current of my love forever 

Find added strength and beauty as it flows. 
The more I give, the more remains for giving, 

The more receive, the more remains to win. 
Ah ! only in eternities of living 

Will life be long enough to love thee in. 



THE ETERNAL WILL. 

There is no thing we cannot overcome. 
Say not thy evil instinct is inherited, 
Or that some trait inborn makes thy whole life 
forlorn, 
And calls down punishment that is not mer- 
ited. 

Back of thy parents and grand-parents lies 
The Great Eternal Will. That, too, is thine 

Inheritance; strong, beautiful, divine. 
Sure lever of success for one who tries. 

Pry up thy faults with this great lever, Will. 

However deeply bedded in propensity ;» 
However firmly set, I tell thee firmer yet 

Is that vast power that comes from Truth's 
immensity. 

59 



50 The Eternal Will. 

Thou art a part of that strange world, I say. 
Its forces lie within thee, stronger far 

Than all thy mortal sins and frailties are. 
Believe thyself divine, and watch, and pray. 

There is no noble height thou canst not climb. 
All triumphs may be thine in Time's futur- 
ity, 
If whatsoe'er thy fault, thou dost not faint or 
halt, 
But lean upon the staff of God's security. 

Earth has no claim the soul can not contest. 

Know thyself part of that Eternal Source, 
And naught can stand before thy spirit's force. 

l*he soul's divine inheritance is best. 



INSIGHT. 

On the river of life, as I float along, 

I see with the spirit's sight 
That many a nauseous weed of wrong 

Has root in a seed of right. 
For evil is good that has gone astray, 

And sorrow is only blindness, 
A.nd the world is always under the sway 

Of a changeless law of kindness. 

The commonest error a truth can make 
Is shouting its sweet voice hoarse, 

And sin is only the soul's mistake 
In misdirecting its force. 

And love, the fairest of all fair things 
That ever to man descended, 

Grows rank with nettles and poisonous things 

Unless it is watched and tended. 
6i 



62 . Insight. 

There could not be anything better than this 

Old world in the way it began, 
And though some matters have gone amiss 

From the great original plan ; 
And however dark the skies may appear^ 

And however souls may blunder, 
I tell you it all will work out clear. 

For good lies over and under. 



A WOMAN'S LOVE. 

So vast the tide of Love within me surging, 
It overflows like some stupendous sea, 
The confines of the Present and To-be ; 

And 'gainst the Past's high wall I feel it urg- 
ing, 

As it would cry " Thou too shalt yield to me ! " 

All other loves my supreme love embodies ; 
I would be she on whose soft bosom nursed 
Thy clinging infant lips to quench their 
thirst ; 
She who trod close to hidden worlds where God 

is, 
That she might have, and hold, and see thee 
first. 



64 A Woman^s Love. 

I would be she who stirred the vague fond 
fancies, 
Of thy still childish heart ; who through bright 

days 
Went sporting with thee in the old-time plays, 
And caught the sunlight of thy boyish glances 
In half-forgotten and long-buried Mays. 

Forth to the end, and back to the beginning, 
My love would send its inundating tide. 
Wherein all landmarks of thy past should 
hide. 
If thy life's lesson must be learned through 
sinning. 
My grieving virtue would become thy guide. 

For I would share the burden of thy errors. 
So when the sun of our brief life had set, 
If thou didst walk in darkness and regret. 
E'en in that shadowy world of nameless terrors, 
My soul and thine should be companions yet. 



A Woman's Love. 65 

' And I would cross with thee those troubled 
oceans 
Of dark remorse whose waters are despair : 
All things my jealous reckless love would 
dare, 
So that thou mightst not recollect emotions 
In which it did not have a part and share. 

There is no limit to my love's full measure, 
Its spirit gold is shaped by earth's alloy ; 
1 would be friend and mother, mate and toy, 
I'd have thee look to me for every pleasure, 
And in me find all memories of joy. 

Yet though I love thee in such selfish fashion, 
I would wait on thee, sitting at thy feet, 
And serving thee, if thou didst deem it meet. 

And couldst thou give me one fond hour of pas- 
sion, 

I'd take that hour and call my life complete. 



THE PiEAN OF PEACR 

With ever some wrong to be righting, 

With self ever seeking for place, 
The world has been striving and fighting 

Since man was evolved out of space. 
Bold history into dark regions, 

His torchlight has fearlessly cast, 
He shows us tribes warring in legions, 

In jungles of ages long passed. 

Religion, forgetting her station, 

Forgetting her birthright from God, 

Set nation to warring with nation 
And scattered dissension abroad. 

Dear creeds have made men kill each other. 
Fair faith has bred hate and despair, 

And brother has battled with brother 

Because of a difference in prayer. 
66 



The Pcean of Peace. 67 

But earth has grown wiser and kinder, 

For man is evolving a soul : 
From wars of an age that was blinder, 

We rise to a peace-girdled goal. 
Where once men would murder in treason 

And slaughter each other in hordes, 
They now meet together and reason, 

With thoughts for their weapons, not swords. 

The brute in humanity dwindles. 

And lessens as time speeds along, 
And the spark of Divinity kindles 

And blazes up brightly and strong. 
The seer can behold in the distance 

The race that shall people the world ; 
Strong men of a godlike existence 

Unarmed, and with war banners furled. 

No longer the bloodthirsty savage 

Man's vast spirit strength shall unfold ; 
And tale« of red warfare and ravage 



68 The Pcean of Peace. 

Shall seem like ghost stories of old. 
For the booming of guns and the rattle 

Of carnage and conflict shall cease, 
And the bugle call, leading to battle, 

Shall change to a paean of peace. 



MEMORY'S RIVER. 

In nature's bright blossoms not always reposes 
That strange subtle essence more rare than 
their bloom, 
Which lies in the hearts of Carnations and roses, 
That unexplained something by men called 
perfume. 
Though modest the flower, yet great is its 
power 
And pregnant with meaning each pistil and 
leaf, 
If only it hides there, if only abides there. 
The fragrance suggestive of love, joy, and 
grief. 

Not always the air that a master composes 
Can stir human heart-strings with pleasure or 
pain. 

3 69 



70 Memory's River. 

Bur strange, subtle chords, like the scent of the 
roses, 
Breathe out of some measures, though simple 
the strain. 
And lo ! when you hear them, you love them 
and fear them, 
You tremble with anguish, you thrill with 
delight. 
For back of them slumber old dreams without 
number. 
And faces long vanished peer out into sight. 

Those dear foolish days when the earth seemed 
all beauty. 
Before you had knowledge enough to be sad, 
When youth held no higher ideal of duty 
Than just to lilt on through the world and 
be glad. 
On harmony's river, they seemed to float hither 
With all the sweet fancies that hung round 
that time, 



Me7n$rfs River. 71 

Life's burdens and troubles turn into air -bub- 
bles 
And break on the music's swift current of 
rhyme. 

Fair Folly comes back with her spell while you 
listen, 
And points to the paths where she led you 
of old. 
You gaze on past sunsets, you see dead stars 
glisten, 
You bathe in life's glory, you swoon in 
death's cold. 

All pains and all pleasures surge up through 
those measures, 
Your heart is wrenched open with earth' 
quakes of sound. 
From ashes and embers rise Junes and De- 
cembers, 
Lost Islands in fathoms of feelin::^ refound. 



7^ ^ Memory's River. 

Some airs are like outlets of memory's oceans, 

They rise in the past and flow into the heart. 
And down them float ship-wrecks of mighty 
emotions, 
All sea-soaked and storm-tossed and drifting 
apart. 
Their fair timbers battered, their lordly sails 
tattered, 
Their skeleton crew of dead days on their 
decks — 
Then a crash of chords blending, a crisis, an 
ending, 
The music is over, and vanished the wrecks. 



•«HAS BEEN/' 

That melancholy phrase " It might have 
been," 
However sad, doth in its heart enfold 
A hidden germ of promise! for I hold 
Whatever might have been shall be. 

Though in 
Some other realm and life, the soul must win 
The goal that erst was possible. But cold 
And cruel as the sound of frozen mold 
Dropped on a coffin, are the words " Has 
been.'^ 

" She has been beautiful " — " he has been great," 
" Rome has been powerful,'' we sigh and 
say. 

73 



74 « Has Beenr 

It IS the pitying crust we toss decay, 
The dirge we breathe o'er some degenerate 
state 

An epitaph for fame's unburied dead. 
God pity those who live to hear it said. 



DUTY'S PATH. 

Out from the harbor of youth's bay 

There leads the path of pleasure ; 
With eager steps we walk that way 

To brim joy's largest measure. 
But when with morn's departing beam 

Goes youth's last precious minute, 
We sigh "'twas but a fevered dream — 

There's nothing in it." 

Then on our vision dawns afar 
The goal of glory, gleaming 

Like some great radiant solar star 
And sets us longing, dreaming. 

Forgetting all things left behind. 
We strain each nerve to win it. 

But when 'tis ours — alas ! we find 

There's nothing in it. 
75 



76 Duty's Path. 

We turn our sad, reluctant gaze 
Upon the path of duty ; 
Its barren, uninviting ways 

Are void of bloom and beauty. 
Yet in that road, though dark and cold, 

It seems as we begin it. 
As we press on — lo ! we behold 
There's Heaven in it. 



THE SUMMER GIRL. 

She's the jauntiest of creatures, she's the dain- 
tiest of misses, 
With her pretty patent leathers or her aHiga- 
tor ties, 
With her eyes inviting glances and her lips in- 
viting kisses 
As she wanders by the ocean or strolls under 
country skies. 

She's a captivating dresser, and her parasols are 

stunning, 

Her fads will take your breath away, her hats 

are-idreams of style; 

She is not so very bookish, but with repartee 

and punning 

She can set the savants laughing and make 

even dudelets' smile. 
17 



78 The Summer Girl. 

She has no attacks of talent, she is not a stage- 
struck maiden, 
She is wholly free from hobbiae, and she 
dreams of no " career ; '* 
She is mostly gay and happy, never sad or care 
beladen. 
Though she sometimes sighs a little if a gen- 
tleman is near. 

She's a sturdy little walker and she braves all 
kinds of weather. 
And when the rain or fog or mist drive rival 
crimps a-wreck,' 
Her fluffy hair goes curling like a kinked-up 
ostrich feather 
Around her ears and forehead and the white 
nape of her neck. 

She is like a fish in water, she can handle reins 
and racket. 
From head to toe and finger tips she's 
thoroughly alive; 



The Summer Girl. 79 

When she goes promenading in a most distract- 
ing jacket 
The rustle round her feet suggests how laun- 
dresses may thrive. 

She can dare the wind and sunshine in the 
most bravaai. "nanner, 
And after hours of .-^tling she has merely 
cheeks of rose. 
Old Sol himself seems smitten and at most will 
only tan her, 
Though to everybody else he gives a danger- 
signal nose. 

She's a trifle sentimental, and she's fond of ad- 
miration, 
And she sometimes flirts a little in the sea- 
son's giddy whirl ; 
But win her if you can, sir, she may prove your 
life's salvation. 
For an angel masquerading oft is she the sum- 
mer girl. 



MARCH. 

Like some reformer, who with mien austere, 
Neglected dress and loud insistent tones. 
More rasping tl.j.n the wrongs which she be- 
moans, 
Walks through the land and wearies all who 
hear. 
While yet we know the need of such reform; 
So comes unlovely March, with wind and 
storm. 
To break the spell of winter, and set free 
The poisoned brooks and crocus beds op- 
pressed. 
Severe of face, gaunt-armed, and wildly dressed, 
She is not fair nor beautiful to see. 
But merry April and sweet smiling May 
Come not till March has first prepared the 

way. 

80 



THE END OF THE SUMMER. 

The birds -laugh loud and long together 

When Fashion's followers speed away 
At the first cool breath of autumn weather. 

Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to stay! 
When the deep calm sea and the deep sky over 

Both look their passion through sun-kissed 
space, 
As a blue-eyed maid and her blue-eyed lover 

Might each gaze into the other's face. 

Oh, this is the time when careful spying 
Discovers the secrets Nature knows. 

You find when the butterflies plan for flying 
(Before the thrush or the blackbird goes), 

You see some day by the water's edges, 

A brilliant border of red and black; 
81 



82 The End of the Summer. 

And then off over the hills and hedges 
It flutters away on the summer's track. 

The shy little sumacs, in lonely pb^**^, 

Bovf'^^d ~^^^ summer with dust and heat, 
Like clean-clad children with rain- washed faces, 

Are dressed in scarlet from head to feet. 
And never a flower had the boastful summer 

In all the blossoms that decked her sod, 
So royal hued as that later comer 

The purple chum of the goldcnrod. 

Some chill gray dawn you note with grieving 

That the King of Autumn is on his way. 
You see with a sorrowful slow believing 

How the wanton woods have gone astray. 
They wear the stain of bold caresses, 

Of riotous revels with old King Frost ; 
They dazzle all eyes with their gorgeous dresses. 

Nor care that their green young leaves are 
lost. 



The End of the Summer. 83 

A wet wind blows from the East one morning, 

The wood's gay garments looked draggled 
out. 
You hear a sound and your heart takes warn- 
ing— 

The birds are planning their winter route. 
They wheel and settle and scold and wrangle, 

Their tempers are ruffled, their voices loud ; 
Then w/^/rr— and away in a feathered tangle 

To fade in the south like a passing cloud. 

Envoi. 

A songless wood stripped bare of glory — 
A sodden moor that is black and brown; 

The year has finished its last love-story — 
Oh, let us away to the gay bright town. 



SUN SHADOWS. 

There never was success so nobly gained, 
Or victory so free from selfish dross 

But in the winning some one had been pained 
Or some one suffered loss. 

There never was so nobly planned a fete 
Or festal throng with hearts on pleasure bent 

But some neglected one outside the gate 
Wept tears of discontent. 

There never was a bridal morning fair 

With hope's blue skies and love's unclouded 

sun 

For two fond hearts, that did not bring de* 

spair 

To some sad other one. 

84 



^^HE THAT LOOKETH" 

Yea ! she and I have broken God's command, 

And in His sight are branded with out 

shame. 

And yet I do not even know her name, 

Nor ever in my life have touched her hand 

Or brushed her garments. But I chanced to 

stand 

Beside her in the throng ! A sweet swift 

flame 

Shot from her flesh to mine — and hers the 

blame 

Of willing looks that fed it ; aye, that fanned 

The glow within me to a hungry fire. 

There was an invitation in her eyes. 

Had she met mine with coldness or surprise 
8s 



86 ''He That Lookethr 

I had not plunged on headlong in the mire 
Of amorous thought. The flame leaped high 
and higher ; 
Her breath and mine pulsated into sighs, 
And soft glance melted into glance kiss-wise, 
And in God's sight, both yielded to desire. 



AN ERRING WOMAN'S LOVE. 

Part I. 

She was a light and wanton maid : 

Not one whom fickle Love betrayed, 

For indolence was her undoer. 

Fair, frivolous, and very poor, 

She scorned the thought of toil, in youth, 

And chose the path that leads from truth. 

More women fall from want of gold. 

Than love leads wrong, if truth were told ; 

More women sin for gay attire 

Than sin through passion's blinding fire. 

Her god was gold : and gold she saw 

Prove mightier than the sternest law 

With judge and jury, priest and king; 
^7 



88 An Erring Woman's Love. 

So, made herself an offering 

At Mammon's shrine ; and lived for power, 

And ease, and pleasures of the hour. 

Who looks beneath life's outer crust 
Is satisfied that God is just ; 
Who looks not under, but about. 
Finds much to make him sad with doubt. 
For Virtue walks with feet worn bare, 
While Sin rides by with coach and pair : 
Men praise the modest heart and chaste, 
And yet they let it go to waste. 
And follow, fierce to have and hold 
Some creature, wanton, selfish, bold. 

She saw but this, life's outer side, 
No higher faith was hers to guide ; 
She worshipped gold, and hated toil. 
And hence her youth with all its soil, 
With all its sins too dark to name. 
Of secret crimes and public shame, 



An Erring Woman! s Love. 89 

With all its trail of broken lives, 
Of ruined homes, neglected wives. 
And weeping mothers. Proud and gay- 
She went her devastating way 
With untouched brow and fadeless grace. 

Not time but feeling marks the facey 

Sin on the outer being tells 

Not till the startled soul rebels : 

And she felt nothing but content. 

She was too light and indolent 

To worry over days to come. 

This little earth held all life's sum 

She thought, and to be young and fair, 

Well clothed, well fed, was all her care. 

With pitying eyes and lifted head 

She gazed on those who toiled for bread, 

And laughed to scorn the talk she heard 

Of punishment for those who erred, 

And virtue's certain recompense. 

She seemed devoid oi moral sense, 



^0 An Erring Woman^s Love. 

An ignorant thing whose appetites 
Bound her horizon of delights. 

Men were her puppets to control; 
Unconscious of a heart or soul 
She lived and gloried, in the ease 
She purchased, by her power to please 
The eye and senses. Life's one woe 
Which caused her pitying tears to flow, 
Was poverty. Though hearts might break 
And homes be ruined for her sake. 
She showed no mercy. But when need 
Of gold she saw, her heart would bleed. 
I The lack of clothing, fire and food. 
Was earth's one pain, she understood. 
The suffering poor oft blest her name, 
Nor questioned whence the ducats came, 
She gave so freely. Once she found 
A fainting woman on the ground, 
A wailing child clasped to her breast. 
With her own hands she bath'd and dre«»*d 



An Erring Woman^s Love. 9 1 

The weary waifs ! gave food and gold 
And clothed them warmly from the cold, 
Nor guessed that one she lured from home 
Had caused that suffering pair to roam 
Unhoused, neglected. Then one day, 
Unheralded across her way, 
The conqueror came. She knew not why, 
But with the first glance of his eye, 
A feeling, new and unexplained. 
Woke in her what she oft had feigned. 
And when his arm stole near her waist. 
As startled maidens blush with chaste 
Sweet fear at love s advances, so 
She blushed from brow to breast of snow. 
Strange, new emotions, fraught with joy 
And pain commingled, made her coy ; 
But when he would have clasped her neck 
With gems that might a queen bedeck 
And offered gold, her lips grew white, 
With sudden anger at the sight 
Of what had been her god for years. 



92 An Erring Woman's Love. 

She flung them from her. Then such tears 
As only spring from love's despair 
Welled from her eyes. " So, lady fair, 
My gifts are scorned ? " quoth he, and laughed. 
" Like , Cleopatra, you have quaffed 
Such lordly pearls in draughts of wine, 
You spurn poor simple gems like mine. 
Well, well, fair queen, FU bring to you 
A richer gift next time -Adieu," 

His light words stung like lash of whip; 
With gasping breath and ashen lip 
She strove to speak, but he was gone. 
She kneeled and pressed her mouth upon 
The latch his hand had touched, the floor 
His foot had trod, and o'er and o'er 
She sobbed his name, as children moan 
A mother's name when left alone. 

Out from the dim and roseate gloom 
And subtle odors of her room^ 



An Erring Woman's Love. 93 

Accusing memories rose. She felt 

A loneliness that seemed to belt 

The universe in its embrace. 

It was as if from some high place 

A giant hand had reached and hurled 

To nothingness her petty world, 

And left her staring, awed, alone, 

Up into regions vast, unknown. 

There is no other loneliness 

That can so sadden and oppress 

As when beside the burned-out fire 

Of sated passion and desire 

The wakening spirit, in a glance, 

Beholds its lost inheritance. 

She rose and turned the dim lights higher, 

Brought forth rich gems and grand attire. 

And robed herself in feverish haste ; 

Before the mirror posed and paced. 

With jewels on her breast and wrists; 

Then sudden clenched her little fists 

And beat her face until it bled, 



94 An Erring Woman s Love. 

And tore her garments shred from shred, 
Gazed in the mirror, spoke her name 
And hissed a word that told her shame, 
Then on her knees fell sobbing there. 

There are sweet messengers of prayer. 

Who down through space on soft wings steal, 

And offer aid to all who kneel. 

Her lips, unused to pious phrase. 

Recalled some words of bygone days. 

And " Now I lay me down to sleep 

I pray the Lord my soul to keep " 

She whispered timidly, and then 

" Lord let me be a child again 

And grow up good." The strange prayer said. 

Like some o'er weary child, her head 

She pillowed on her arm, and wept 

Low, shuddering sobs, until she slept 

And dreamed ; and in that dream she thought 

She sat within a vine-wreathed cot ; 

An infant slumbered on her breast, 



An Erring Woman's Love. 95 

She crooned a lullaby, and pressed 
Its waxen hand against her cheek, 
While one too proud and fond to speak, 
The happy father of the child, 
Stood near, and gazing on them, smiled. 

She woke while still the lullaby 
Was on her lips-— then such a cry, 
As souls in fabled realms below 
Might utter, voiced her awful woe. 

The mighty moral labor pain 
Of new-born conscience wracked her brain 
And tore her soul. She understood 
The meaning now of womanhood. 
And chastity, and o'er her came 
The full, dark sense of all her shame. 
As some poor drunken wretch, at night, 
Wakes up to know his piteous plight. 
And sees, while sinking in the mire. 
Afar, his waiting hearth-light's fire ; 



96 An Erring Woman's Love. 

So now she saw from depths of sin, 
The hearth-light of the might-have-been. 
How beautiful, how like a star 
That lost light shone, but ah, how far! 

She reached her longing arms toward space, 

And lifted up her tear-wet face. 

** Oh, God," she wailed, " I have been bad ! 

I see it all, and I am sad. 

And long to be a good girl now. 

Lord, Lord, will some one show me how ? 

Why, men have trod the burning track 

Of sin for years, and then gone back ! 

And cannot I for sin atone. 

Or did Christ die for men alone? 

I want to lead an honest life, 

I want, to be his own true wife 

And hold upon my breast his child." 

Then suddenly her voice grew wild, 

" No, no," she cried, " it could not be, 

Those infant eyes would torture me— 



An Erring WomarCs Love. 97 

Though God condoned my sinful ways 
I could not meet my child's pure gaze." 

She hid her face upon her knees, 
And swayed as reeds sway in a breeze, 
" Oh, Christ," she moaned, " could I forget 
There might be something for me yet : 
But though both God and man forgave. 
And I should win the love I crave. 
Why, memory would drive me mad." 

When woman drifts from good to bad, 

To make her final fall complete, 
/ She puts her soul beneath her feet. 

Man's dual selves seem separate; 
/He leaves his soul outside sin's gate 

And finds it waiting when he tires 

Of carnal pleasures and desires. 

Depleted, sickened and depressed. 

As souls must be with such a test, 

Yet strong enough to help him grope 

Back into happiness and hope. 



98 An Erring Wojnans Love. 

But woman, far more complicate, 
Can take no chances with her fate ; 
A subtle creature, finely spun, 
Her body and her soul are one. 
And now this erring woman wept 
The soul she murdered while it slept. 
She felt too stunned with pain to think. 
She seemed to stand upon a brink ; 
Behind her loomed the sinful past, 
Below her, rocks, beyond her, vast 
And awful darkness. Not one ray 
Of sun or star to show the way I 
She drew a long and shuddering breath ; 
" There is no other path but death 
For me to tread," she sighed, "and so 
I will prepare my house and go." 

As housewives move with willing feet 
And skilful hands to make things neat, 
And ready for some welcome one. 
She toiled until her tasks were done 



An Erring Woman s Love. 99 

Then, seated at her desk, she wrote 
With painful care, a tear-wet note. 
The childish penmanship was rude, 
111 spelled the words, the phrasing crude ; 
Yet thought and feeling both were there 
And mighty love and great despair. 
"Dear heart," it ran, "you did not know 
How, from the first, I loved you so. 
That sin grew hateful in my sight. 
And so I leave it all to-night. 
The kiss I gave, dear heart, to you 
Was love's first kiss, as pure and true 
As ever lips of maiden gave. 
I think 'twill warm my lonely grave, 
And light the pathway I must tread 
Among the hapless, homeless dead." 

" When God formed worlds. He failed to make 
A path for erring feet to take 
Back into light and peace again, 
Unless they were the feet of men. 
LOFC. 



^^^ An Erring Woman's Love. 

When woman errs, and then regrets, 

Her sun of hope forever sets,' 

And life is hung with deepest gloom. 

In all the world there is no room 

For such as she; and so I hold 

That death itself is not so cold ; 

As life has seemed, since by love's light 

I saw there was a wrong and right, 

And that my birthright had been sold, 

By my own hands, for tarnished gold. 

I hated labor, hence I fell; 

But now I love you, dear, so well. 

No greater boon my soul could crave 

Than just to toil, a galley slave. 

Through burdened years and years of life, 

If at the last you called me wife 

For one supreme and honored hour. 

Alas! too late I learn love's power, 

Too late I realize my loss. 

And have no strength to bear my cross 

Of loneliness and dark disgrace. 



An Erring IVomaiis Love. loi 

There cannot be another place 

So desolate, so full of fear, 

As earth to me, without you, dear. 

You will not understand, I know, 

How one like me can love you so. 

It was a strange, strange thing. Love came 

So like a swift, devouring flame 

And burned my frail, fair-weather boat 

And left me on the waves afloat, 

With nothing but a broken spar. 

The distant shores seem very far; 

I cannot reach them, so I sink. 

God will forgive my sins, I think, 

Because I die for love, like One 

The good Book tells about. His Son. 

For erring woman death can bring 
No pain so keen as memory's sting. 
Good night, good-by. God bless you, dear, 
And give you love, and joy, and cheer. 



102 A7Z Erring Womaris Love. 

But sometimes, in the dark night, say 
A prayer for one who went astray. 
And found no pathway back, and died 
For love of you — a suicide." 

When morn his glorious pinions spread 
They found the erring woman dead. 



Part II. 

She woke as one wakes from a deep 
And dreamless, yet exhausting sleep, 

A strange confusion filled her mind 
And sorrows vague and undefined. 

Like half-remembered faces pressed 
To memory's window, in her breast, 

Gazed at her with reproachful eyes. 
She felt a sudden, dazed surprise, 



An Erring Woman's Love. 103 

Commingled with a sense of dread, 
" I did but sleep— I am not dead, 

The potion and the purpose failed 
And I still live,'' she wildly wailed. 

" Nay thou art dead, rash suicide '' 
A sad voice spake : and at her side 

She saw a weird and shadowy crowd 
With anguished lips, and shoulders bowed, 

And orbs that seemed the wells of woe. 
She shrieked and veiled her eyes. ** No, no ! 

I am not dead ! I ache with life. 
An earthly passion's hopeless strife 

Still tortures me." " Yet thou art dead." 
The voice with sad insistence said. 

" But love and sorrow and regret 
All die with death. / feel them yet." 



104 An Erring Wovdun's Love. 

'"^ God bade thee live, and only He 
Can say when thou shalt cease to be." 

*^ But I was sin-sick, sad, alone — 
I thought by death I could atone, 

And died that Christ might show me how." 
"Christ bore His burden, why not thou?*' 

" Oh, lead me to His holy feet 
And let my penance be complete." 

" What ! thinkest thou to find that path — 
Thou who hast tempted Heaven's wrath 

By thy rash deed? Nay, nay not so, 
'Tis but perfected spirits go 

To that supreme and final goal. 
V A self-sought death delays the soul. 

With yonder shuddering, woeful throng 
Of suicides thy ways belong. 



An Erring Woman s Love. 105 

Close to the earth a shadowy band, 
Unseen but seeing all, they stand 

Until their natural time to die. 
As God intended, shall draw nigh. 

On earth, repentant, sick of sin, 

A ministering angel thou hadst been. 

Whose patient toil and deeds divine 
Had rescued souls as sad as thine. 

Each deed a firm ascending stair 
To lead beyond thy great despair. 

But now it is thy mournful fate 
To linger here and meditate 

On thy dark past— to stand so near 
The earthly plane that thou canst hear 

Thy lover's voice, while old desire 
Shall burn within thee like a fire, 



io6 An Erring Wo7nan^s Love. 

And grief shall root thee to the spot 
To find how soon thou art forgot. 



Bidt since thou hast endured the woes 
That only fragile woman knows, 

And loved as only woman can, 
Thou shalt. not suffer all that man 

Must suffer when he interferes 

With God's great law. In death's dim spheres 

That justice waits, which men refuse. 
Thy sex shall in some part excuse 

Thy desperate deed. When God shall send 
A second death to be thy friend, 

Thou need'st not fear a darker fate — 
Go forth with yonder throng and wait." 



A SONG OF REPUBLICS, 

Fair Freedom's ship, too long adrift — 

Of every wind the sport — 
Now rigged and manned, her course well planned 

Sails proudly out of port; 
And fluttering gaily from the mast 

This motto is unfurled, 
Let all men heed its truth who read: 

" Republics Rule the World I " 

The universe is high as God! 

Good is the final goal; 
The world revolves and man evolves 

A purpose and a soul. 
No church can bind, no crown forbid 

Thought's mighty upward course- 
Let kings give way before its sway, 

For God inspires its force. 
107 



io8 A Song of Republics. 

The hero of a vanished age 

Was one who bathed in gore; 
Who best could fight was noblest knight 

In savage days of yore ; 
Now warrior chiefs are out of date, 

The times have changed. To-day 
We call men great who arbitrate 

And keep war's hounds at bay. \ 

The world no longer looks to priest 

Or prince to know its needs; 
Earth's human throng has grown too strong 

To rule with courts and creeds. 
We want no kings but kings of toil — 

No crowns but crowns of deeds. 
Not royal birth but sterling worth 

Must mark the man who leads. 

Proud monarchies are out of step 

With modern thought to-day, 
For Brotherhood is understood 



A Song of Republics. 109 

And thrones must pass away. 
Men dare to think. Concerted thought 

Contains more power than swords : 
The force that binds united minds 

Defeats mere savage hordes. 

Man needs no arbitrary hand 

To keep him in control, 
He feels the power grow hour by hour 

Of his expanding soul ; 
In God's stupendous scheme of worlds, 

He knows he has a place. 
He is no slave to cringe, and crave 

Some worthless monarch's grace. 

As ocean billows undermine 

The haughty shores each hour, 
Time's sea has brought its waves of thought 

To crumble thrones of power f 
And one by one shall lfii7gdon\s *^!^ 

Like leaves before tbe blast. 



no A Song of Republics. 

As man with man combines to plan 
Republics formed to last. 

Columbia balked a tyrant king, 

And built upon a rock, 
In Freedom's name, a shrine whose fame 

Outlived the century's shock. 
Now France within our port has set 

Her symbol of re-birth. 
Her lifted hand tells sea and land, 

Republics light the earth. 

One mighty church for all the world 

Would make men far more kind. 
One government would bring content 

To many a restless mind. 
Sail on, fair ship of Freedom, sail 

The wide sea's breadth and length. 
'Till worlds unite to make the might 

Of "One Republic's" strength. 



MEMORIAL DAY— 1892. 

The quiet graves of our country's braves 
Through thirty Junes and Decembers 

Have solemnly lain under sun and rain, 
And yet the Nation remembers. 

The marching of feet and the flags on the street 

Told once again this morning, 
In the voice of the drum how the day had come 

For those lowly beds' adorning. 

Then swiftly back on Time's worn track 
His three decades seemed driven, 

And with startled eyes, I saw arise 
From graves by fancy riven, 

The Gray and the Blue in a grand review. 

Oh, vast were the hosts they numbered: 
III 



112 Memorial Day — 18()2. 

As they wheeled and swayed in a dress parade 
O'er the graves where they long had slumbered. 

The colors were not, as when they fought, 

Ranked one against the other, 
But a mingled hue of gray and blue. 

As brother marchinor with brother. 



*i3 



And a blue flower lay on each coat of gray 

Like forget-me-nots on a boulder, 
And the gray moss lace in its Southern grace 

Was knotted on each blue shoulder. 

The vision fled, but I think our dead. 
If they could come back with the living. 

Would clasp warm hands o'er hostile lands. 
Forgetting old wrongs and forgiving. 

'Mong the blossoms of Spring that you gather 
and bring 
To graves that tho' lowly are royal, 



Memorial Day — i8g2. ^^3 

Let the blue flower prevail, though modest and 
pale, 
Since it speaks of the hue that was loyal. 

But tie each bouquet with a ribbon of gray 

And lay it on memory's altar, 
For the dead who fought for the cause they 
thought 

Was right, and who did not falter. 



WHEN BABY SOULS SAIL OUT. 

When from our mortal vision 

Grown men and women go, 
To sail strange fields Elysian 

And know what spirits kirOw, 
I think of them as tourists, 

In some sun-gilded clime, 
'Mong happy sights and dear delights 

We all shall find, in time. 

But when a child goes yonder 
And leaves its mother here, 

Its little feet must wander, 
It seems to me, in fear. 

What paths of Eden beauty 
What scenes of peace and rest 

Can bring content to one who went 

Forth from a mother's breast. 
114 



When Baby Souls Sail Out. Hf 

In palace gardens, lonely, 

A little cb* d will roam, 
And weep i. r pleasures only 

Found in its humble home — 
It is not \ on by splendor, 

Nor bought by costly toys. 
To hide from harm on mother's arm 

Makes all its sum of joys. 

It must be when the baby 

Goes journeying off alone, 
Some angel (Mary may be), 

Adopts it for her own. 
Yet when a child is taken 

Whose mother stays below 
With weeping eyes, through Paradise, 

I seem to see it go. 

With troops of angels trying 

To drive away its fear, 
I seem to hear it crying 



Ii6 When Baby Souls Sail Out. 

" I want my mamma here." 
I do not court the fancy, 

It is not based on doubt, 
It is a thought that comes unsought 

When baby souls sail out. 



TO ANOTHER WOMAN^S BABY 

I LIST your prattle, baby boy, 
And hear your pattering feet 

With feelings more of pain than joy 
And thoughts of bitter-sweet. 

While touching your soft hands in play 
Such passionate longings rise 

For my wee boy who strayed away 
So soon to Paradise. 

You win me with your infant art; 

But when our play is o'er. 
The empty cradle in my heart 

Seems lonelier than before. 

Sweet baby boy you do not guess 

How oft mine eyes are dim, 

Or that my lingering caress 

Is sometimes meant for him. 
'^7 



DIAMONDS. 

The tears of fallen women turned to ice 
By man's cold pity for repentant vice. 



RUBIES. 

The crimson life-drops from a virgin heart 
Pierced to the core by Cupid's fatal dart. 



ii8 



SAPPHIRES. 

Lost rays of light that wandered off alone 
And down through space were hurled 

From that great sapphire sun beyond our own 
Pale, puny little world. 

TURQUOISE. 

A BABY went to heaven while it slept, 

And waking missed its mother's arms and 
wept. 

Those angel tear-drops falling earthward through 
God's azure skies, into the turquoise grew. 



119 



REFORM. 

The time has come when men with hearts and 
brains 
Must rise and take the misdirected reins 
Of government ; too long left in the hands 
Of aliens and of lackeys. He who stands 
And sees the mighty vehicle of State 

Hauled through the mire to some ignoble 
fate 
And makes not such bold protest as he can, 

Is no American. 



I20 



A MINOR CHORD, 

I HEARD a strain of music in the street— 
A wandering waif of sound. And then 

straightway 
A nameless desolation filled the day. 
The great green earth that had been fair and 

sweet 
Seemed but a tomb ; the life L thought re* 

plete 
With joy, grew lonely fo^ a vanished May, 
Forgotten sorrows resurrected lay 
Like bleaching skeletons about my feet. 
Above me stretched the silent suffering sky 
Dumb with vast anguish for departed suns 
That brutal time to nothingness has hurled. 
The daylight was as sad as smiles that lie 
Upon the wistful unkissed mouths of nuns, 
And I stood prisoned in an awful world. 

121 



DEATH'S PROTEST. 

Why dost thou shrink from my approach, oh 

Man? 
Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling 
To my false rival life? I do but bring 
Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost theu 

ban 
And curse me ? Since the forming of God's plan 
I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing, 
I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting 
And peace eternal for earth's stormy span. 
The wild mad prayers for comfort sent in vain 
To knock at the indifferent heart of Life 
I, Death, have answered. Knowest thou not 'tis 

he 
My cruel rival who sends all thy pain 
And wears the soul out in unending strife ? 
Why do#t thou hold to him, then, spurning me ? 



SEPTEMBER. 

My life's long radiant Summer halts at last 

And lo ! beside my pathway I behold 
Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold 

Has heralded her presence ; but a vast 
Sweet calm that comes not till the year has 
passed 

Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold 
Subdues the vivid coloring of bold 

And passion-hucd emotions. I will cast 
My August days behind me with my May, 

Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place, 
Nor swear I hope when I do but remember. 

Now violet and rose have had their day 
rU pluck the soberer asters with good grace 

And call September nothing but September, 

123 



WAIL OF AN OLD-TIMER. 

Each new invention doubles our worries arf 

our troubles, 
These scientific fellows are spoilin' of our land. 
With motor, wire, an' cable, now'days we*r« 

scarcely able 
To walk or ride in peace o' mind, an' 'tis n't 

safe to stand. 

It fairly makes me crazy to see how tarnal lazy 
The risin' generation grows — an' science is to 

blame. 
With telephones for talkin', an' messengers for 

walkin'. 

Our young men sit an' loaf, an' smoke, without 

a blush o' shame. 

124 



Wail of an Old-Timer. 125 

An' then they wan't contented until some one 

invented 
A sort o' jerky tape-line dock, to help on 

wasteful ways. 
An' that infernal ticker spends money fur 'em 

quicker 
Than any neighborhood o' men in good old 

bygone days. 

The risin' generation is bent so on creation, 
Folks haven't time to talk or sing or cry or 

even laugh. 
But if you take the notion to want some such 

emotion. 
They've got it all on tap fur you, right in the 

phonograph. 

But now a crazy creature has introduced the 

feature 
Of artificial weather, I think we're nearly 

through. 



126 Wall of an Old-Tmter. 

For when we oace go strainin' to keep it dry 

or rainin' 
To suit the general public, 'twill bust the 

world in two. 



A WARNING. 

There was a flame, oh such a tiny flame. 
One fleeting hour had spanned its birth and 
death. 

But for a silly child with playful breath 
Who fanned it into fury. It became 
A mighty conflagration. Ah the cost! 
House, home, and thoughtless child alike were 
lost. 

Lady beware. Fan not the harmless glow 

Of admiration into ardent love. 

Lean not with red curled smiling lips above 

The flickering spark of sinless flame and blow 

Lest in the sudden waking of desire 

Thou, like the child, shalt perish in the fire. 

127 



WAS, IS, AND YET-TO-BE. 

Was, Is, and Yet-to-Be 

Were chatting over a cup of tea. 

In tarnished finery smelling of must, 
Was talked of people long turned to dust/ 

Of titles and honors and high estate, 
AH forgotten or out of date; 

Of wonderful feasts in. the long ago, 

Of pride that perished with nothing to show. 

" I loathe the present " — said Was, with a 

groan. 
** I live in pleasures that I have known." 

The Yet-to-be, in a gown of gauze, 

Looked over the head of musty Was, 

128 



Was, Is, and Yet-To-Be. ' 129 

And gazed far off into misty space 
With a wrapt expression upon her face. 

" Such wonderful pleasures are coming to me, 
Such glory, such honor/' said Vet-to-be. 

"No one dreamed, in the vast Has Been 
Of such successes as I shall win. 

The past, the present, why what are they ? 
I live for the joy of a future day." 

Then practical Is, in a fresh print dress, 
Spoke up with a laugh, " I must confess 

I find to-day so pleasant,'* she said 
" I never look back, and seldom ahead. 

What ever has been, is a finished sum. 
What ever will be, why let it come. 

To-day is mine. And so you see 
1 have the past and the yet-to-be; 



I30 Was, Is, and Yet-TQ-Me. 

For to-day is the future of yesterday, 
And the past of to-morrow. I live while I 
may, 

And I thfnk the secret of pleasure is this, 
And this alone," said practical Is* \ 



MISTAKES. 

God sent us here to make mistakes. 

To strive, to fail, to re-begin. 

To taste the tempting fruit of sin, 
And find what bitter food it makes. 

To miss the path, to go astray. 
To wander blindly in the night. 
But searching, praying for the light, 

Until at last we find the way. 

And looking back along the past 
We know we needed all the strain 
Of fear and doubt and strife and pain 

To make us value peace, at last. 

Who fails, finds later triumph sweet. 

Who stumbles once, walks then with care, 
131 



132 Mistakes. 

And knows the place to cry " Beware - 
To other unaccustomed feet. 

Through strife the slumbering soul awakes. 

We learn on errors troubled route 

The truths we could not prize without 

The sorrow of our sad mistakes. 
t 



DUAL. 

You say that your nature is double: that life 
Seems more and more iatricate, complex, and 
dual, 
Because in your bosom there wages the strife 
'Twixt an angel of light and a beast that is 
cruel : 
An angel who whispers your spirit has wings, 
And a beast who would chain you to temporal 
things. 

I listen with interest to all you have told, 
And now let me give you my view of your 
trouble ; 

You are to be envied, not pitied; I hold 

That every strong nature is always made double. 

The beast has his purpose, he need not be slain. 

He should serve the good angel in harness and 

chain* 
9 ^53 



1 34 Dual. 

The body that never knows carnal desires, 
The heart that to passion is always a stran- 

Is merely a furnace with unlighted fires; 

It sends forth no warmth while it threatens 

no danger. 
But who wants to shiver in cold safety there? 
Touch flame to the fuel! then watch it with 

care. 

Those wild, fierce emotions that trouble your 
soul 
Are sparks from the great source of passion 
and power; 
Throne reason above them, and give it control, 
And turn into blessing this dangerous dower. 
By lightnings unguided destruction is hurled, 
But chained and directed they gladden the 
world. 



THE RAPE OF THE MIST. 

High o'er the clouds a sunbeam shone, 

While far down under him, 
With a subtle grace that was all her owa 

The mist gleamed fair and dim. 

He looked at her with his burning eyes, 
And longed to fall at her feet ; 

Of all sweet things there under the skies 
He thought her the thing most sweet. 

He had wooed oft, as a sunbeam may, 
Wave and blossom and flower, 

But never before had he felt the sway 
Of a great love's mighty power. 

Tall cloud mountains and vast-space sea^, 

Wind and tempest and fire, 

^35 



136 The Rape of the Mist. 

What are obstacles such as these 

To a heart that is filled with desire! 

Boldly he trod over cloud and star, 

Boldly he swam through space, 
She caught the glow of his eyes afar 

And veiled her delicate face. 

The mist grew pale with a vague, strange fright, 

As fond yet fierce he came, 
He was so strong and he was so bright, 

And his breath was a breath of flame. 

Close to his heart she was clasped and kissed, 

She swooned in love's alarms: 
And dead lay the beautiful pale-faced mist 

In the sunbeam's passionate arms. 



THE ALL-CREATIVE SPARK. 

Pain can go guised as joy, dross pass for gold, 

Vulgarity can masquerade as wit, 
Or spite wear friendship's garments ; but I hold 

That passionate feeling has no counterfeit. 
Chief jewel from Jove's crown 'twas sent men, 

lent- 
For inspiration and for sacrament. 

Jove never could have made the Universe 

Had he not glowed with passion's sacred fire; 

Though man oft turns the blessing to a curse. 
And burns himself on his own funeral pyre, 

Though scarred the soul be where its light 
burns bright, 

Yet where it is not, neither is tlicrc might. 



138 The All-Ci^eative Spm^k. 

Yea, it was set in Jove's resplendent crown 
When he created worlds ; that done, why, 
hence, 

He cast the priceless, awful jewel down 
To be man's punishment and recompense. 

And that is how he sees and hears our tears 

Unmoved and calm from the eternal spheres. 

But sometimes, since he parted with all passion, 
In trifling mood, to pass the time away, 

He has created men in that same fashion. 
And many women (jesting as gods may). 

Who have no souls to be inspired or fired, 

Merc sport of idle gods who have grown tired. 

And these poor puppets, gazing in the dark 
At their own shadows, think the world no 
higher ; 

And when they see the all-creative spark 

In other souls, they straightway cry out, "Fire ! " 

And shriek, and ,ravc, till their dissent is spent, 

While listening gods laugh loud in merriment. 



BE NOT CONTENT. 

Be not content, contentment means inaction, 
The growing soul aches on its upward quest ; 

Satiety is twin to satisfaction — 

All great achievements spring from life's un- 
rest. 

The tiny roots, deep in the dark mould hiding, 
Would never bless the earth with leaf and 
flower 

Were not an -inborn restlessness abiding 

In seed and germ, to stir them with its power. 

Were man contented with his lot forever. 

He had not sought strange seas with sails un- 
furled, 

And the vast wonder of our shores had never 
Dawned on the gaze of an admiring world. 



140 Be Not Content. 

Prize what IS yours, but be not quite contented. 
There is a healthful restlessness of soul 

By which a mighty purpose is augmented 
In urging men to reach a higher goal. 

So when the restless impulse rises, driving 
Your calm content before it, do not grieve ; 

It is the upward reaching of the spirit 
Of the God in you to achieve, achieve. 



ACTION. 

Forever stars are winging 

Their swift and endless race; 
Forever suns are swinging 

Their mighty globes through space^ 
Since by his law required 
To join Gdd's spheres inspired, 
The earth has never tired, 

But whirled and whirled and whirledt 
Forever streams are flowing, 
Forever seeds are growing, 
Alway is Nature showing 

That Action rules the world. 

And since by God requested 

To be^ the glorious light 

Has never paused or rested 

But travelled day and night. 
141 



142 Action. 

Yet pigmy man, unseeing 
The purpose of his being, 
Demands escape and freeing 

From universal force. 
But law is law forever, 
And like a mighty lever 
It thrusts him towVd endeavor, 

And speeds him on his course* 



-/ 

TWO ROSES. 

A HUMBLE wild-rose, pink and slender, 

Was plucked and placed in a bright bouquet, 

Beside a Jacqueminot's royal splendor, 
And both in my lady's boudoir lay. 

Said the haughty bud, in a tone of scorning, 
^* I wonder why you arc called a rose ? 

Your leaves will fade in a single morning, 
No blood of mine in your pale cheek glows, 

** Your coarse green stalk shows dust of the 
highway, 

You have no depths of fragrant bloom ; 
And what could you learn in a rustic byway 

To fit you to lie in my lady's room ? 

'* If called to adorn her warm white bosom, 

What have you to offer for such a place, 

143 



144 Two Roses. 

Beside my fragrant and splendid blossom, 
Ripe with color and^ rich with grace ? " 

Said the sweet wild-rose, " Despite your dower 
Of finer breeding and deeper hue, 

Despite your beauty, fair, high-bred flower, 
It is I who should lie on her breast, not you. 

" For small account is your hot-house glory 
Beside the knowledge that came to me 

When I heard by the wayside love's old story, 
And felt the kiss of the amorous bee." 



SHRINES. 

About a holy shrine or sacred place 

Where many hearts have bowed in earnest 
prayer, 

The loveliest spirits congregate from space, 
And bring their sweet uplifting influence there. 

If in your chamber you pray oft and well, 
Soon will these angel messengers arrive 

And make their home with you, and where 
they dwell 
All worthy toil and purposes shall thrive. 

I know a humble plainly furnished room. 

So thronged with presences serene and bright, 

The heaviest heart therein forgets its gloom 

As in some gorgeous; temple filled with U^H, 
US 



M6 Shrines. 

Those heavenly spirits, beauteous and divine, 
Live only in an atmosphere of prayer; 

Make for yourself a sacred, fervent shrine, 
And you will find them swiftly flocking there 



SATIETY. 

To yearn for what we have not had, to sit 
With hungry eyes glued on the Future's gate, 

Why that is heaven compared to having it 
With all the power gone to appreciate. 

Better to wait and yearn, and still to wait, 
And die at last with unappeased desire, 

Than live to be the jest of such a fate, 
For that is my conception of hell-fire. 



147 



A SOLAR ECLIPSE. 

In that great journey of the stars through space 
About the mighty, all-directing Sun, 
The pallid, faithful Moon, has been the one 

Companion of the Earth. Her tender face, 

Pale with the swift, keen purpose of that race. 
Which at Time's natal hour was first begun, 
Shines ever on her lover as they run 

And lights his orbit with her silvery smile. 

Sometimes such passionate love doth in her rise, 
Down from her beaten path she softly slips, 

And with her mantle veils the Sun's bold eyes, 
Then in the gloaming finds her lover's lips. 

While far and near the men our world call wise 
See only that the Sun is in eclipse. 



148 



THE WATCHER. 

She gave her soul and body for a carriage, 
And liveried lackey with a vacant grin, 

And all the rest — house, lands — and called it 
marriage — 
The bargain made, a husband was thrown in. 

And now, despite her luxury, she's faded, 
Gone is the bloom that was so fresh and 
bright ; 
She has the dark-rimmed eye, the countenance 
jaded, 
Of one who watches with the sick at night. 

Ah, heaven, she does ! her sick heart, sick and 
dying, 
Beyond the aid of human skill to save, 
10 »49 



^50 The Watcher. 

In that cold room her breast is hourly lying, 
And her grim thoughts crowd near to dig its 
grave. 

And yet it lingers, suffering and wailing, 
As sick hearts will that feed upon despair, 

And that l©ne watcher, unrelieved, is paling 
With vigils that no pitying soul can share. 

Ah, lady ! it is hardly what you thought it. 
This life of luxury and social power ; 

You gave yourself as principal and bought it, 
But God extracts the interest hour by hour 



A SUGGESTION. 

To C. A. D. 

Let the wild red-rose bloom. Though net to 
thee 

So delicately perfect as the white 

And unwed lily drooping in the light, 
Though she has known the kisses of the bee 

And tells her amorous tale to passers-by 
In perfumed whispers and with untaught grace, 
Still let the red-rose bloom in her own place ; 

She could not be the lily should she try. 

Why to the wondrous nightingale cry hush, 

Or bid her cease her wild heart-breaking lay, 

And tune her voice to imitate the way 

The whip-poor-will makes music, or the thrush? 

151 



^52 ji Suggestion. 

All airs of sorrow to one theme belong 
And passion is not copyrighted yet. 
Each heart writes its own music. Why not let 

The nightingale unchided sing her song? 



THE DEPTHS. 

Not only sun-kissed heights are fair. Below 
The cold, dark billows of the frowning deep 
Do lovely blossoms of the ocean sleep, 

Rocked gently by the waters to and fro. 

The coral beds with magic colors glow. 

And priceless pearl-encrusted mollusks heap 
The glittering rocks where shining atoms leap 

Like living broken rainbows. 

Even so 
We find the sea of sorrow. Black as night 
The sullen surface meets our frightened gaze. 
As down we sink to darkness and despair. 
But at the depths ! such beauty, such delight ! 
Such flowers as never grew in pleasure's ways. 
Ah ! not alone are sun-kissed summits fair. 



»53 



LIFE'S OPERA. 

Like an opera-house is the world I ween, 
Where the passionate lover of music is seen 

In the balcony near the roof : 
While the very best seat in the first stage-box 
Is filled by the person who laughs and talks 

Through the harmony's warp and woof. 



154 



THE SALT SEA-WIND. 

When Venus, mother and maker of blisses, 
Rose out of the billows, large-limbed, and 
fair, 

She stood on the sands and blew sweet kisses 
To the salt sea-wind as she dried her hair. 

And the salt sea-wind was the first to caress 
her, 
To praise her beauty and call her sweet, 
The first of the whole wide world to possess 
her, 
She, that creature of light and heat. 

Though the sea is old with its sorrows and 
angers, 
And the world has forgotten why love was 
born 

155 



iS6 The Salt Sea- Wind. 

Yet the salt sea-wind is full of the languors 
That Venus taught on her natal morn. 

And now whoever dwells there by the ocean, 
And feels the wind on his hair and face, 

Is stirred by a subtle and keen emotion. 
The lingering spell of that first embrace* 



NEVER MIND. 

Whatever your work and whatever its worthy 

No matter how strong or clever, 
Some one will sneer if you pause to hear 

And scoff at your best endeavor. 
For the target art has a broad expanse, 

And wherever you chance to hit it, 
Though close be your aim to the bullseye fame, 

There are those who will never admit it. 

Though the house applauds while the artist 
plays 

And a smiling world adores him, 
Somebody is there with an ennuied air 

To say that the acting bores him. 

For the tower of art has a lofty spire 

With many a stair and landing, 
157 



158 Never Mind. 

And those who climb seem small oft time 
To one at the bottom standing. 

So work along in your chosen niche 

With a steady purpose to nerve you ; 
Let nothing men say who pass your way 

Relax your courage or swerve you. 
The idle will flock by the Temple of Art 

For just the pleasure of gazing, 
But climb to the top and do not stop 

Though they may not all be praising. 



NEW YEAR. 

New Year, I look straight in your eyes, 
Our ways and our interests blend, 
You may be a foe in disguise 
But I shall believe you a friend* 
We get what we give in our measure, 
We cannot give pain and get pleasure, 
I give you good will and good cheer 
And you must return it. New Yean 

We get what we give in this life. 

Though often the giver indeed 

Waits long upon doubting and strife 

Ere proving the truth of my Creed. 

But somewhere, someway, and forever 

Reward is the meed of endeavor — 

And if I arn really worth while, 

New Year, yau will give me your fimilc. 
159 



i6o New Year. 

You hide in your mystical hand 
No " luck *' that I cannot control, 
If I trust my own courage and stand 
On the Infinite strength of my soul. 
Man holds in his brain and his spirit 
A power that is God-like, or near it, 
And he who has measured his force 
Can govern events and their course. 

YoM come with a crown on your brow. 

New Year, without blemish or spot. 

Yet you, and not I, sir, must bow, 

For time is the servant of thought. 

Whatever you bring me of trouble 

Shall turn into good and then double. 

If my spirit looks up without fear 

To the Source that you came from, New Year. 



CONCENTRATION. 

The age is too diffusive. Time and Force 

Are frittered out and bring no satisfaction. 

The way seems lost to straight determined 
action. 
Like shooting stars that zig-zag from their 

course 
We wander from our orbit's pathway ! spoil 

The role we're fitted for, to fail in twenty. 

Bring empty measures that were shaped for 
plenty, 
At last as guerdon for a life of toil. 
There's lack of greatness in this generation 

Because no more man centres on one thought. 

We know this truth and yet we heed it not, 
The secret of success is Concentration. 



i6i 



^ 



THOUGHTS. 

Thoughts do not need the wings of words 

To fly to any goal. 
Like subtle lightnings, not like birds, 

They speed from soul to soul. 

Hide in your heart a bitter thought 

Still it has power to blight. 
Think Love, although you speak it not, 

Tt gives the world more light. 



162 



LUCK. 

Luck is the tuning of our inmost thought 

To chord with God's great plan. That done, 
ah, know, 

Thy silent wishes to results shall grow, 
And day by day shall miracles be wrought. 
Once let thy being selflessly be brought 

To chime with universal good, and lo! 

What music from the spheres shall through 
thee flow! 
What benefits shall come to thee unsought ! 
Shut out the noise of traffic ! Rise above 

The body's clamor ! With the soul's fine ear 

Attune thyself to harmonies divine. 
All, all are written in the key of Love; 

Keep to the score, and thou hast naught to 
fear, 

Achievements yet undreamed of shall be 

thine. 

163 



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